From the WSJ Opinion Archives
LEISURE & ARTS
'Rising' to the Occasion
Bruce Springsteen on Sept. 11.
Rare is the work of art that can articulate for us the human experience born of tragedy writ large, and rarer still is the rock album that does so. On his new, flawed disc, "The Rising" (Sony), Bruce Springsteen sets out to explore the impact and consequences of the Sept. 11 attacks on the victims, their families and friends. At times, he does so with startling clarity.
On "The Rising," which goes on sale today, Mr. Springsteen uses sound and words in new, imaginative ways. Working with an independent producer, Brendan O'Brien, for an entire album for the first time in his career, Mr. Springsteen sought a sound that's a marked departure from the clean, unfettered approach of his previous albums.
To bring us back to that unimaginable event, Mr. Springsteen and Mr. O'Brien time and again surround us with a thick, tumultuous torrent of guitars and synthesizers, kick drums, cymbals, fiddles, cellos, basses and a wash of voices merging to create a single unrelenting force, as if to recall the roar of worlds colliding, the howl of destruction and sudden death. And then, unexpectedly, they leave us with an eerie silence broken only by the ringing of a folk guitar, the wail of a harmonica, celestial voices of a choir or a single line sung by Mr. Springsteen without accompaniment.
The next striking element of the new disc is Mr. Springsteen's lyrics, which are stark, solemn and spiritual, as his narrators grope desperately for meaning, for a glint of optimism, in light of the savagery. On "The Rising," Mr. Springsteen's songs aren't only about the dead. He also gives voice to the dead: The victims scream to each other as death approaches and then whisper to each other in tender tones as its aftermath begins.
In Mr. Springsteen's view, the dead are with us, observing us, as we struggle to regain our footing. They describe the moment of their passing: "There's spirits above and behind me / Faces gone black, eyes burnin' bright / May their precious blood bind me, Lord / As I stand before your fiery light," he writes in the title track. In "The Fuse," they narrate their funerals: "Down at the courthouse they're ringin' the flag down / Long black line of cars snakin' slow through town." And, in "Paradise," they speak to us from their new surroundings: "I sink 'neath the water cool and clear / Drifting down, I disappear / I see you on the other side/ I search for peace in your eyes."
No less powerful are the sentiments of the survivors. In "You're Missing," Mr. Springsteen captures the details of an ordinary life torn asunder: "Coffee cup's on the counter / Jacket's on the chair / Paper's on the doorstep / But you're not there." Or, in "Empty Sky": "Just an empty impression / In the bed where you used to be."
"The sky was falling and streaked with blood / I heard you calling me / Then you disappeared into the dust," he writes in "Into the Fire," which builds to a prayer of hope in its chorus: "May your strength give us strength / May your faith give us faith."
The music on "The Rising" is the most varied of Mr. Springsteen's storied career, and his E Street Band, at times a bloodless unit, plays with unmitigated fervor under the prodding of Mr. O'Brien, who produced Pearl Jam, Rage Against the Machine and others. Bassist Gary Tallent once again is the group's forceful anchor, while the multilayered keyboards serve to set the tone and carry the motifs. Mr. Springsteen's guitar solos have their characteristic bite; played with appropriate restraint, they sear much more than they soar.
Sitting in on violin, Soozie Tyrell makes a valuable contribution to "Into the Fire," which sounds as if it sprang out of the Louisiana bayou, and the lilting "Lonesome Day," driven by Max Weinberg's four-square pounding. "Countin' on a Miracle," in which Mr. Springsteen's voice builds to a raw scream, is a powerful rocker, as is "Further on Up the Road."
And yet "The Rising" becomes especially poignant when the band is most discreet, as on "Paradise," which echoes Paul Simon's "Sounds of Silence." For that song and others, Mr. Springsteen tells his tales in a conversational style over acoustic guitars accented at times only by oscillating synthesizers. In those quiet moments, he creates a chilling reflection of the aftermath of the event.
Long and oddly paced, "The Rising" isn't a perfect album. "Mary's Place" is a bright tune that promises to be a barn-burner on Mr. Springsteen's tour, which kicks off Aug. 7 in New Jersey. But it feels out of step here, as does "Let's Be Friends." The cross-culture exercise "Worlds Apart," with guest Asif Ali Khan and his group, gives us too little of the Pakistani qawwali singer in a setting that becomes transcendent only in the instrumental coda. And there's not much for Clarence Clemons, the band's sax player, to do throughout the disc. When he's summoned, he fails to make a memorable statement.
And yet this is a major work by Mr. Springsteen, for its perspective and powerful visceral impact. On "The Rising," Mr. Springsteen has captured, with stirring acuity, some of the emotions of a watershed moment in American history. For that, the disc takes an honored place in the Springsteen canon.
Mr. Fusilli writes about popular music for The Wall Street Journal.
